wheelchair and all its electronic conveniences now
seemed an integral part of his body. But
he had never adjusted to losing Yvonne.
Yvonne had been a fellow CIA agent-a
formidable enemy, a devoted friend, and the wittiest
person he'd ever known. She had been his life and his
lover. When they were together, even on the job, the
physical boundaries of the universe seemed very
small. It was denned by her eyes and by the curve of
her neck, by the warmth of her fingers and the playfulness of
her toes. But what a rich and full universe that
had been. So rich that there were still mornings when,
halfawake, Herbert would reach his hand under her
pillow and search for hers. Not finding it, he'd
squeeze her lumpy pillow in his empty fingers and
silently curse the killers who'd taken her from
him. Killers who had gone unpunished. Who were still
permitted to enjoy their own lives, their own loves.
Now Herbert had to mourn the loss of Martha
Mackall. He felt guilty. Part of him was
pleased that he wasn't the only one grieving now.
Mourning could be an oppressively lonely place
to be. Less guiltily,
72 OP-CENTER
Herbert also wasn't willing to laud the dead just because
they were dead, and he was going to have to listen to plenty of that
over the next few days and weeks. Some
of the praise would be valid. But only some of it.
Martha had been one of Op-Center's keystones
since the organization's inception. Regardless of her
motivation, Martha had never given less than her
utmost. Herbert was going to miss her intelligence,
her insights, and her justified self-confidence. In
government, it didn't always matter whether a person
was right or wrong. What mattered was that they led, that
they roused passions. From the day she arrived in
Washington Martha certainly did that.
Yet in the nearly two years that he had known
Martha Mackall, Herbert had found her to be
abrasive and condescending. She often took credit
for work done by her staff-a common enough sin in
Washington, though a rare occurrence at
Op-Center. But then, Martha wasn't devoted
solely to Op-Center. Since he'd first encountered
her when she worked at State, she had always applied
herself to the advancement of the cause that seemed most
important to her:
Martha Mackall. For at least the last five or
six months she'd had her eyes on several
ambassadorial positions and had made no
secret of the fact that her position at Op-Center
was simply a stepping stone.
On the other hand,
Herbert thought,
when patriotism isn 'I enough to drive you to do your
best, ambition is a workable substitute.
As long as the job got done, Herbert wasn't one
to throw stones.
Herbert's cynicism burned off quickly, though, as
BALANCE OF POWER 73
he crossed the threshold into Hood's small,
woodpaneled office. "Pope" Paul had that
effect on people. Hood believed in the goodness of
humankind and his conviction as well as his even temper
could be contagious.
Hood finished pouring himself a glass of tap water
from a carafe on his desk. Then he rose and walked
toward the door. Herbert had been the first to arrive,
and Hood greeted him with a handshake and tightlipped
solemnity. Herbert wasn't surprised to see the
director's dark eyes lacking their usual spirit and
vigor. It was one thing to get bad news about an
operative on a covert mission. Reports like that
were statistical inevitabilities and a part of you was
always braced for that kind of loss. Each time the
private phone or fax line beeped, you
half-expected a coded communique with a
heart-stopping phrase like "The stock market is
down one" or "Lost a charge card- cancel account."
But to hear about the death of a team member who was on a
quiet diplomatic mission to a friendly nation during
peacetime-that was another matter. It was disturbing
regardless of what you thought about the person.
Hood sat on the edge of his desk and folded his
arms. "What's the latest from Spain?"
"You read my e-mail about the explosion off the
coast of San Sebastian, up north?"'"
Hood nodded.
"That's the last thing I have," Herbert replied. "The
local police are still pulling body parts and
pieces of yacht from the bay and trying to ID the
peo-
74 OP-CENTER
pie. No one has claimed responsibility for the
attack. We're also monitoring commercial and
private broadcasts in case the perps have something
to say."
"You wrote that the yacht blew up midship,"
Hood said.
"That's what two eyewitnesses onshore said,"
Herbert replied. "There hasn't been any
official word yet."
"And there isn't likely to be," Hood said.
"Spain doesn't like to share its internal matters.
Does the midship location mean anything?"
Herbert nodded. "The blast was nowhere near the
engines, which means we're almost certainly looking at
sabotage. The timing may also be significant.
The explosion occurred soon after Martha was shot."
"So the two events could be related," Hood said.
"We're looking into it," Herbert replied.
"Starting where?"
Hood was pushing more than usual, but that wasn't
surprising. Herbert had felt that way after
Beirut. Apart from wanting the killer found and
punished, it was important to keep one's mind
active. The only other option was to stop, mourn, and
have to deal with the guilt.
"The attack on Martha does adhere to the modus
operand! of the Homeland and Freedom group,"
Herbert said. "In February of 1997 they
killed a Spanish Supreme Court judge.
Justice Emperador. Shot him in the head at the
front door of his building."
"How does that tie in to Martha?"
"Judge Emperador heard labor law cases,"
Herbert
BALANCE OF POWER 75
said. " "He had nothing to do with terrorists or
political activism."
"I don't follow."
Herbert folded his hands on his waist and answered
patiently. "In Spain, as in many countries,
judges involved in terrorist matters are given
bodyguards. Real bodyguards, not just for show. So
Homeland and Freedom typically goes after friends and
associates in order to make a point to the
principals. That's been their pattern in a
half-dozen shootings since 1995, when they tried
to murder King Juan Carlos, Crown Prince
Pelipe, and Prime Minister Aznar. The
failure of that operation had a chilling effect."
"No more direct frontal assaults," Hood
said.
"Right. And no more prime targets. Just atta
cks
on the secondaries to rattle the support
structure."
Two other people had arrived as Herbert was speaking.
"We'll talk about all this in a minute," Hood
said. He took a swallow of water and rose as
staff psychologist Liz Gordon and
somber-looking press officer Arm
Farris walked in. Herbert saw Ann's eyes
catch Hood's for a moment. It was an open secret
along the executive corridors of Op-Center that
the young divorcee was more than fond of her married
boss. Because Hood was so unreadable-a talent he
had apparently developed as mayor of Los
Angeles-no one was quite sure how Hood felt about
Arm. However, it was known that the long hours he spent
at OpCenter had put a strain on his relationship
with his wife, Sharon. And Arm was attractive and
attentive.
Martha's shell-shocked number-two man, Ron
76 OP-CENTER
Plummer, arrived a moment later with Op-Center
attorney Lowell Coffey 11 and Deputy
Assistant Secretary of State Carol
Lanning. The slim, gray-haired,
sixty-four-year-old Lanning had been a very
close friend and mentor to Martha. Officially, however,
that wasn't the reason she was here. Hood had asked
Lanning to come to Op-Center because an American
"tourist" had been shot abroad. It was now a
matter for her division of the State Department, the
Security and Counselor Affairs-the nuts and
bolts group which dealt with everything from
passport fraud to Americans imprisoned
abroad. It was the job of Lanning and her staff
to work as liaisons with foreign police departments
to investigate attacks on American citizens.
Like Hood, Lanning was temperate by nature and an
optimist. As she sat down beside Herbert, the
intelligence chief found it extremely unsettling
to see Lanning's bright eyes bloodshot and her thin,
straight mouth pulled into a deep frown.
Mike Rodgers was the last to arrive. He strode
through the door quickly, his eyes alert and his chest
expanded. His uniform was smartly pressed, as always,
and his shoes were brightly polished.
God in Heaven bless the general,
Herbert thought. Outwardly, at least, Rodgers was
the only one who seemed to have any fight in him.
Herbert was pleased to see that Rodgers had regained
some of the grit he had lost in Lebanon. The rest
of them would need to draw upon that if they were going to carry
on here and revitalize Darrell McCaskey and
Aideen Marley in Spain.
Hood went back to his desk and sat down.
Everyone
BALANCE OF POWER 77
else took seats except for Rodgers.
The general folded his arms, squared his shoulders, and
stood behind Carol Lanning's chair.
"As you all know," Hood began, "Martha
Mackall was murdered in Madrid at
approximately six p.m. local time."
Although Hood was addressing everyone in the room, he
was looking down at the desk. Herbert understood.
Eye contact could do him in. And he had to get through
this.
"The shooting happened as Martha and Aideen Marley
were standing at a guard booth outside the Palacio
de las Cortes in Madrid," Hood went on.
"The lone gunman fired several shots from the street
and then escaped in a waiting car. Martha died at the
scene. Aideen was not hurt. Darrell met her at
the palace. They headed back to their hotel with a
police escort."
Hood stopped and swallowed hard.
" "The police escort was made of handpicked
operatives attached to Interpol," Herbert continued
for him, "and Interpol will continue to look over their
shoulders for as long as they remain in Spain. The
laxness of palace security has got us wondering
if at least some of the guards weren't in on the
plot-which is why we turned to Darrell's
friends at Interpol for security, rather than relying on
government-appointed police. We've got a lot
of background data on the Interpol crew, due
to the time agent Maria Comeja spent working with
Darrell here in Washington," Herbert added.
"We're very comfortable with how Darrell
78 OP-CENTER
and Aideen will be looked after from this point forward."
"Thank you. Bob," Hood said. He looked up.
His eyes were glistening. "Martha's body is en
route to the embassy. It will be flown back as soon
as possible. At the moment, we have a service
scheduled at the Baptist Evangelical Church in
Arlington for Wednesday morning, ten a.m."
Carol Lanning looked away and shut her eyes.
Herbert's hands were still folded on his waist and he
glanced down at his thumbs. Before Herbert had
attended Op-Center's annual sensitivity
training seminar, he would have thought nothing about leaning
over and putting his arms around the Deputy
Assistant Secretary of State. Now if he
wanted to comfort her, all he was supposed to do was ask
if she wanted anything.
Hood beat him to it. "Ms. Lanning," he asked,
"would you care for some water?"
The woman opened her eyes. "No, thank you.
I'll be all right. I want to get on with this."
There was a surprising edge in her voice. Herbert
snuck a glance at her. Carol's lips were
straight now, her eyes narrow. To him, it didn't
look like she wanted water. What Carol Lanning
seemed to crave was blood. Herbert knew
embassy bombing, he would have had no trouble nuking the
entire city just to get the bastards who killed his
wife. Grief was not a merciful emotion.
Hood looked at his watch. He sat back in his
chair. "Darrell will be calling in five minutes."
He looked at Plummer. "Ron, what do we do
about the mission? Is Aideen qualified to continue?"
BALANCE OF POWER 79
Plummer leaned forward and Herbert looked at him.
Plummer was a short man with thinning brown hair and
wide eyes. He wore thick, black-framed
glasses on a large hooked nose. He had on
a dark gray suit badly in need of dry cleaning
and scuffed black shoes. The tops of his socks were
falling over his ankles. Herbert hadn't had many
dealings with the former CIA intelligence analyst for
Western Europe. But Plummer had to be
good. No one who dressed so carelessly could get
by on anything but talent. Besides, Herbert had had a
look at the psych workup Liz Gordon had done
of Plummer before he was hired. Herbert and Plummer
had both detested the CIA director Plummer
had worked under. That was enough of a character endorsement for
Herbert.
"I can't answer for Aideen's state of mind,"
Plummer said, with a nod to Liz Gordon. "But
apart from that I'd say that Aideen is very capable of
co
ntinuing the mission."
"According to her file," Carol said, "she hasn't had
a great deal of diplomatic experience."
"That's very true," Plummer said. "Ms.
Marley's methods are rather less diplomatic than
Martha's were. But you know what? That just may be
what's needed now."
"I like the sound of that," Herbert said. He looked
at Paul.
"Have
you decided to continue the mission?"
"I won't decide that until I talk
to Darrell," Hood said. "But my inclination is
to keep them over there."
"Why?" Liz Gordon asked.
Herbert couldn't decide whether it was a question or a
challenge. Liz's manner could be intimidating.
80 OP-CENTER
"Because we may not have a choice," Hood said. "If
the shooting was random-and we can't dismiss that
possibility, since Aideen is alive and a
Madrid postal worker was the other victim-then the
killing was tragic but not directed at the discussions.
If that's the case, there's no reason not to keep the
talks online. But even if the shooting was directed
at us we can't afford to back down."
"Not back down," Liz said, "but wouldn't it be
wise to step back until we're sure?"
" 'American foreign policy is determined by the
Administration, not by the barrel of a gun," Lanning
said. "I agree with Mr. Hood."
"Darrell can arrange for security with his people at
Interpol," Hood said. "This won't happen again."
"Paul," Liz pressed, "the reason I mention this
has nothing to do with logistics. There's one thing you
need to consider before deciding whether Aideen should be a
part of this process."
"What's that?" asked Hood.
"Right about now she's probably coming out of the first stage
of alarm reaction, which is shock," Liz
told him. "That's going to be followed almost immediately
by countershock, a quick increase in the adrenocortical
hormones-steroid hormones. She's going to be
pumped."
"That's good, no?" Herbert asked.
"No, it isn't," Liz replied. "After
countershock, a resistance phase settles in.
Emotional recuperation. Aideen's going to be
looking for someplace to turn that energy loose. If
she was not too diplomatic before, she
BALANCE OF POWER 81
may become an unguided missile now. But even
that's not the worst of it."
"How so?" Hood asked.
Liz rolled her broad shoulders forward. She
leaned toward the group, her elbows on her knees.
"Aideen survived a shooting in which her partner died.